Forbidden That Can Not be Had
by paintedallup
Summary: Heroes; Claire and Peter, Adam


Childish eyes turn to burning cinders in just four years (thanks to the push I got from the one named Sylar, now forever _Gabriel_), the same pink flesh remains but the innocence has long been stolen away and every familiar face asks without words, _'what happened to you?_'

_He_ happened, the one with puppy dog eyes and forbidden lips.

He came into my life and then fly away the moment he found my lips (forever the same in this life and the many that will come) a comfort more so then all the rest.

_'I can't Claire, I just can't. I rather turn into everything I hate then give into this. It's wrong and we're both wrong to let it continue. Goodbye, Claire-bear.'_

-

So he left. But of course he left in his own way, rather then the normal packing of the bags and the tearful goodbye, he just closed his eyes and he was gone.

-

"He really was the _son of a bitch_ that I remembered, wasn't he _Claire_? How many years has it been now, _love_, four and not one little sign of growth?"

(brand new claws yearned to reach out and scratch him and say what the little old Claire Bennett was holding inside, _'don't you dare say that about Peter, he's a kind of hero you could never be, mine.'_)

For the moment we meet (_'well aren't you the cutest thing I wonder how Peter ever resisted' _he didn't resist very long) which can't be told by the age I seem to be, every few months he'd be in the neighborhood waiting just around the corner.

"I could say the same, _Adam_, what is it now four-hundred and four? What are you doing here again? It's like I have my own personal _stalker_ who isn't a very good one at that."

"Well, _Claire_, I did find you didn't I? And I'll come back, that's something _Peter_ never did."

Every time he ends it just like that, brings up his name (that every time it's said or filling up my mind the wound begins to peel open) until he sees me flinch with pain, blows a kiss and he's on his way.

"_Son of a bitch,_ Adam, _never_ again."

"We'll see about _that_."

-

Without fail there he was (brand new suit settled around him like a second skin) waiting for me, staying there for me.

Which is a lot more then _Peter_ ever did (and with that one word it all came rushing back).

"This is rather interesting, I must be growing on you (and hope to be attached to you for eternity)."

"In your _dreams_, Monroe."

"Well, I guess I'm dreaming then, because you and your combat boots found their way to me instead of the other way around, _Claire_."

The truth was blinding as it came into the light of day.

Without even knowing it for the first time in these four years, I had come to him (the one that my mind said I hated but my feet and heart said that I loved him).

"_Why_? Why _you_?"

"Because I'm nothing like _Peter_."

"Oh. (Yes, yes, _yes_.)"

For the first time since him _who-shall-not-be-named_ two unchanging lips found each other.

And hate turned into something else, something that was nothing like the tragedy of _Peter_ and _Claire_.

-

"_Get_. _Out_."

The cause of all of the pain that had filled me up these long four years (that seemed like the four-hundred years that would come slowly one year at a time) was staring me in the face and asking for help with those eyes of his.

"_Claire_, it's me _Peter_, the one from four years ago, what happened? What did _I_ do?"

I should have seen it sooner but the need to hurt this man until he felt the hole that had been ripped out of me years ago, was clouding up my mind that I didn't see he wasn't even that man yet..

"Even if I told you that, _Peter_, I know you and that you would do the same thing all over again. I can't help you this time, not _ever_ again."

He was out cold in the matter of seconds (he doesn't know me anymore and the future one will never see me again, unless he wants to die) not expecting anything from little _Claire Bennett_ as she hit him a little harder then needed.

"Thanks for letting me finally say _goodbye_."

_-_

"Do you want me to kill him, _Claire_?"

"No, if anyone's ever going to kill him it's going to be me. Drop him off somewhere far away so he can't find his way back here, he's not the _Peter_ I want, _not yet_."

"Yes, boss, but of course I live to do your bidding. I'll be home in a few hours, don't wait up."

"I _won't_."

Innocence is something I lost a long time ago (the monsters in my dreams took them away in one night) and stopped trying to find again the moment I fell into the bad guys arms and decided to play house.

Innocence is what this (my _once-upon-a-time_) Peter's face was filled to the brim with, before it all melted away and I was the only one there to feel the aftermath of it.

"If you kill him I'll know and you won't get such a warm _welcoming_."

"You always do, _Claire-bear,_ you always do."


End file.
